


Moonlight Drive

by The_Shy_One



Category: Hellblazer, Marvel (Comics), Moon Knight (Comics)
Genre: Crossover, Dimension Travel, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, October Prompt Challenge, Smoking, Stranded, accidental dimensional travel, did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Shy_One/pseuds/The_Shy_One
Summary: Moontober Day 2 Prompt - TaxiMarc is stranded on the side of a motorway with only the promise that Khonshu had gotten him a ride. He's met with a blond, smoking mage that he feels a draw to when told he should get into the backseat of the taxi.
Relationships: John Constantine/Marc Spector
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	Moonlight Drive

Marc was stranded. Not in the usual way someone might be with a flat tire or something about the engine not working, stuck on the side of the road waiting for help. No, Marc was stranded in a different universe and had no way of getting back beyond Khonshu mentioning that a taxi would be along to pick him up. Honestly, Marc didn’t think the God was capable of phoning up a service like that. 

He figured that Khonshu would just leave him on the side of the road - motorway, Khonshu said when Marc had come to from being forcibly knocked out by a wayward demon and delivered the news that he was outside London in a different universe - and would have to find a way back to the universe that Marc belonged in. The God was being exceptionally kind in this regard by telling him that there would be someone there to pick him up.

Marc pulls off his mask and turns his head to watch as the cars and trucks go past him on the two-lane highway. Similar to the highways in the US, there were many vehicles on the road, all in a hurry to reach their destinations. He watched for any vehicle that started slowing down, for something different about it to signal that they were here to pick him up. 

He continued to stand there, willing to bet that Khonshu didn’t give whoever he called coordinates beyond the name of the highway and that he was standing to one side. Bursts of wind rushed past him as cars went by, rustling his hair and making his cape drift and flap. A few times he heard swearing and exclamations from drivers who saw Marc standing at the side of the highway, cape drifting wide and mask off to show the various bruises that were blooming now.

He must be a sight if the fleeting headlights were able to give them a snapshot of him.

After an hour, Marc sees a yellow taxi, similar in colour to the ones he saw in New York City slowing down and moving off the highway towards him. This was an older model, ones only seen in movies before the ’90s settled in with the stripe of a checkered pattern on the side and a sign on top that said it was off duty. It was oddity here - just like him - as he knew that taxis in London were coloured black.

He starts to wonder who Khonshu dragged out of bed to come to pick him up.

It stops in front of Marc, only being able to see into the front through the window with a larger man on the other side of the taxi. The man was dressed like a cabbie in those old movies with a flat cap on his head and a large coat to keep any kind of fluid off of his body. He turns his head to face Marc and they briefly make eye contact. Then the man jerks his head, indicating that Marc should go into the back.

At his side, Jake suddenly appears and looks at the taxi with distrust, his mouth curling underneath the thick mustache. He had a similar outfit to the cabbie, though he wore it like a second skin. “You sure about this Marc? Could be a trap.”

Marc shrugs. “If Khonshu had enemies, they wouldn’t appear to offer help. They would have jumped me and dragged me away.”

“Yeah, yeah. If it turns sideways, make sure you escape.” And with that, Jake disappeared, having said his bit to Marc.

Marc didn’t react to it, only moved to open the back door of the taxi. Smoke poured out as this happened, but it didn’t bother Marc enough to stop or question it. When he peers in, he sees another man sitting on the other side of the taxi, smoking and letting the smoke drift out of his mouth like it was a cloud. He turned his head to look at Marc, cigarette in hand as his brown eyes travelling up and down Marc’s costume. 

There was something about the man that made Marc pay attention to him. It wasn’t any of the clothing he wore - though it was a look that had to be inspired by others with the trench coat that’s seen better days, a ruffled up white shirt and a loose red tie around his neck - nor how scruffy the man looked with a five o’clock shadow on his face and rumpled hair that looked like the worst case of bed head someone could have at this hour. There was something to him that wasn’t there physically and it put Marc on edge on why he couldn’t figure it out.

“What’re you waiting for mate? Some complimentary drinks and entertainment? Get in.” The man said, accent rolling over the words. It was British, but not the one from London like many would assume from outside the country. It was rougher sounding, heavier over certain letters.

It led him no closer to finding out what that something was.

Marc didn’t say anything in reply as he got into the taxi, settling into the back seat. Without being told, the cabbie drove off as soon as Marc closed the door, joining the flow of the traffic on the highway without any fuss. Smoke filled up the back seat once more, giving the air of one of those old noir films his father had once watched when he was young. 

A few minutes went by before the man spoke up, voice rough from being up this late and what Marc was sure was many years of smoking cigarettes. “What makes you so bloody special that a God - a God who doesn’t even inhabit this universe mind you - has to wake me up at three am to say I have to pick you up or else?”

“I’m his knight,” Marc said simply. If Khonshu had personally woken up and talked to this man then it meant that he knew what Marc would be talking about. It meant that he was a traveller that Khonshu watched over as well. “He watches over me as I do business in his name.”

“Yeah? And business were you doing that set you across the barrier between your universe and mine?” 

“Fighting a demon. Guess it pushed me through when I started to get close to taking down its operations tonight.”

“And I’m the only one Khonshu could come to? Don’t have contacts here, Knight?” The man complained, smoke crawling out of his mouth all the while. And yet there was amusement somewhere in there, something that said he was intrigued.

Or maybe that’s what he wanted to see after all that happened tonight.

“Call me Marc.” He said, switching up the conversation. 

“Vilgentes,” Marc heard the man mutter before saying,” John Constantine. The mage that’ll get you home.”

It made Marc smile for a moment before his face smoothed over. “What’ll you do to get me home? There is a demon to take care of when I was last conscious.”

“Anything that’s time-sensitive?” John questioned. Moonlight curled its way into the backseat of the taxi, shining onto John. Marc takes a moment to see the way it highlights the man’s messy bedhead and the bag underneath his eyes.

“No,” Marc hears himself say, still focused on how nice John looks in the moonlight. Well as nice s one can look when scruffy seems to be the whole aesthetic. “I can wait a few days to go after them again. I’m sure Strange has taken notice now.”

“Your version of a head sorcerer of all in your dimension?”

“Yes.”

“Just as long as I don’t have to meet them when returning you. Your God was enough, mate.” Then John is cursing and dropping his cigarette when Khonsu makes a sudden appearance in the backseat, sitting as if he were always there. 

Marc sighs, wondering what the God wants now. “Is there something you have to tell me, Khonshu?”

“He better,” He heard John mumbled, going to pick up the cigarette off the floor. Marc smiled, amused by the way John used magic to relight the tip of the cigarette and still mutter curses at his God.

The hawk skull tilted, the empty sockets staring at Marc with amusement.  **“My son,”** Khonshu starts, voice rumbling through his bones as he moves a hand - all flesh and pale as moonlight - to place on Marc’s shoulder.  **“Don’t get caught up with the theatrics of this place.”**

“Because you need me at your side,” Marc says, reading between the lines. “Doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun.”

“And what fun would that be?” John asks, butting in. Moonlight continues to curl around the man as if shining on all the bruises and imperfections that weren’t covered by clothing. It only drew Marc closer, wanting to place his hands in the directionless blond hair to see how scruffy it was.

“Depends,” Was all Marc said to him, smiling as he saw John roll his eyes at the answer.

Khonshu removed his hand, returning to sitting as if he was in polite company instead of a bruised and bloody vigilant and what appears to be a rough-looking mage.  **“Keep your sights on home.”**

And with that Khonshu disappears, leaving no trace he was there in the first place. Marc looks to see John, tired and slumped in his seat. 

“Does he always do that, the appearing and disappearing act?” John asks tiredness threaded into his voice. He flickers his cigarette and the ashes fall onto his coat without care. “Would have driven me nuts.”

Marc shrugs. “Was crazy long before I met him.” He says.

This catches John’s attention. He turns his head, staring at Marc with curiosity. “You say that and don’t explain further. What could be worse than God with no personal boundaries?”

“I have DID,” Marc answers. He watches as John ponders that answer, smoke curling out of his mouth, all captured in the pale moonlight. It makes Marc shuffle closer, wanting to curl his hands into John’s hair and maybe hold the man’s hands as well while they kiss.

“Must be nice to have others see him then,” John says finally. He crushes the cigarette into the taxi door and looks at Marc. “Bet you have all kinds of sides to you that many haven’t seen.”

Marc heard Jake’s laughter and the scoff from Steven, both giving their opinions about John that way without distracting him. It makes him get closer to John. “Is that a come on, Constantine?”

“Could be if you wanted it to be, love.” Marc sees the cocky smirk, wishes to kiss it off the man. He shifts closer, snaking a hand into John’s hair.

It was scruffy, as he knew it would. But still somewhat soft underneath his hand as he ran his fingers through the strands. Marc watches as John stares at him, throat moving as he swallows. Smiling, Marc presses a kiss to the corner of the man’s mouth. “I’m considering it. You do have time to change my mind.” He says as he leans his head an inch or so away from John.

“Tease,” John says right before he pulls Marc back in, kissing him on the lips. Marc smiles, moving his other hand to John’s hair, gripping it to make John moan. 

Marc’s sure Khonshu will understand if he’s a day or two later than expected.


End file.
